


Are You Tired of Me Yet?

by GayMentality



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Angst, F/F, Introspection, Post-Canon, maybe just a bit of softness in there as a treat, stuggling to cope, unhealthy Parent-child relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayMentality/pseuds/GayMentality
Summary: “Hey.”The quiet, barely-there sniffling stops. Hannah’s biting her lip, she can tell. She always bites her lip when she’s trying to bury something.“Hi.”
Relationships: Hannah England & Amanda O'Neill, Hannah England/Amanda O'Neill
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	Are You Tired of Me Yet?

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warning: Describes/mentions emotional neglect, feelings of isolation, etc.**
> 
> They can be perceived as any age for this- I set it in their second year at the academy, so they could be about 16/17. It deals with some minor heavy themes, so just an extra little warning there.

“Hey.”  
The quiet, barely-there sniffling stops. Hannah’s biting her lip, she can tell. She always bites her lip when she’s trying to bury something.  
“Hi.”

Amanda slings her legs between the balcony bars next to her, knuckles white with strain as she held onto them tightly. The wind was a little rough up here, and the structure of the building was definitely not up to code; all things she’d never thought twice about until now. 

Hannah had her knees to her chest, resting her head against the short railing, gaze cast out into the forest, searching for nothing, and something, and everything all at once. She knew no matter how hard she looked, she would never see what she wanted to see. 

It was cold, and dark- winter wasn’t quite there yet, but Amanda could smell the bite of frost in the air. It’d be there soon enough. She knew that wouldn’t stop Hannah from sitting and waiting. After all this time, she still didn’t know what for.

“I got off the phone the phone with my Mom.”  
This was why Amanda was here, at least she knew that much. She needed a breather after talking to that dragon of a woman for longer than a brief hello. She loved her, at least she hoped she did, but there was a reason she didn’t fight as hard as she could have when she got sent away. 

“Yeah? What’d she say?”  
They didn’t always talk about their parents. Sometimes it was too hard. Other times, they were simply too frustrated with each other to think about anything else, with the other in their space. No matter what the mood was, they always met, in the end. 

“The usual.”  
Don’t come home until it’s right. Your sister had higher marks than that. Why aren’t you trying, Amanda? This is embarrassing. “What did your Dad say?”

Hannah did her best to look casual, but she sucked at keeping her emotions in check. She was the easiest to read person she’d ever met, other than Akko, maybe. The auburn-haired witch sunk into her cloak, turning to rest her cheek on her hand, in a futile attempt at a warmer cushion. 

“He was busy today.”  
That was code for ‘I don’t want to think about what he said’. Amanda shrugged, picking at the aging concrete. 

All Luna Nova students were encouraged to call home on Wednesdays from the telecommunications station in the main hall. Amanda wouldn’t if she wasn’t forced to- her mother was well known among the faculty, and they’d rather shove Amanda forward and make her bite the bullet than deal with the woman themselves. 

A lot of people got really excited to have contact with the ‘real world’. She’d found this place trying to avoid the conversations that were always buzzing about campus afterwards; ‘who did you call, what did they say?’

Unfortunately, or fortunately, it was occupied. Somehow, for some reason, thanks to whatever Gods up in the sky, she and Hannah managed to coexist on this abandoned ‘perfects lounge’ balcony, which was more of a shabby hole in the wall than anything else. If they were caught up here, they’d get detention for weeks, and the entire student body would start their whispering. 

Hannah hadn’t cared then, and she didn’t care now, which surprised Amanda still. She guessed that maybe it was the atmosphere, or the way she stared out into nothing like it was her job, that provided enough of a distraction for them to coexist. They didn’t talk about it outside of this place- that was the unspoken rule. Neither were to acknowledge the fact that every Wednesday for the past year and a half, they’d both been sneaking away to the same spot to sit and simply… be. 

Amanda had wondered why Hannah didn’t just go cry to Barbara whenever she was upset. Something about not being a burden. She thought it was stupid, but then again, there were people who loved her too. People who’d stop at nothing to help. Maybe that was why they kept it so private.

Maybe there was no helping them, and that’s why they had to hide. To avoid it altogether. 

Shutting her eyes for a moment, Amanda took in a deep breath. She could hear the wind in the trees below. It was a rough day for flying, but she liked upcoming storms like this the best. It was a perfect time for stunt practice, no matter how many safety protocols stated otherwise. 

She heard the sniffling again. Snapping her eyes open, she didn’t dare turn her head. It was another unspoken rule; don’t look. Not while someone was crying- being vulnerable. That would just make it worse. Then without warning, a sharp, lone sob- the kind that wasn’t followed by a trail of smaller tremors. It was the type of sob that someone who’d realized the worst would make, head buried in their hands as their world began to break apart right in front of them.

Amanda would know- been there, done that, came out of it a little worse for wear. She was better now. A certified asshole with a doctorate in ‘I don’t give a fuck if It’s a healthy coping mechanism or not’, but better, at least by her own standards. Worst of all, Hannah sounded cold.

Slipping her jacket off her shoulders, a warm puff of breath left her lips. It curled upwards, into the sky, until it melted into the steadily growing blackness. Dress code her ass- they’d freeze if they only wore those stupid uniforms, cloak or not. She didn’t say anything as she scooched over, just enough to tuck Hannah into it. The girl’s hood fell off her head, revealing glassy hazel eyes and a slightly reddened nose. She’d been out here a while. 

“I-”  
“Don’t.”  
Hannah gripped the sides, zipper nipping at her fingertips. It fit awkwardly over her cape, but thanks to their height difference, it wasn’t too tight. She felt herself curling into her body a little more, reacting to the rush of someone else’s body heat greeting her own. 

“It’s cold out here. You should go back inside soon.”  
Amanda was right, but Hannah would sooner die of hypothermia than admit it. That, and the thought of going back to the dimly lit halls and vibrant chatter made her nauseous, kept her rooted in place. 

“What about you? Don’t tell me American’s don’t get cold.”  
A grin. Hannah got a grin, and a self-satisfied noise.   
“We do. My good looks’ll keep me warm.”

Hannah’s expression crumbled. Her eyes filled back up with tears, and she hugged the jacket closer. No- she wasn’t going to do this. It was so pathetic; her whiney, scratchy voice, and her childish whimpering. What would her father say, if he saw? 

There was a pull at her waist, and without warning, she was pressed flush against Amanda’s side, as close as she could be in this position. It was a bit uncomfortable, and the roughness of the ground against her thighs was unpleasant. The first thing she noticed about Amanda O’Neill, though, was the way she smelled like something she should remember- a far off memory, stuck at the tip of her tongue. It had to have been a hike, somewhere rocky. With a hint of thick blankets and gentle touches by firelight. 

Hannah thought that maybe there was supposed to be some rule about touching, too, but she didn’t have it in her to try and materialize it in her brain. Amanda wasn’t really holding her; it was much more like a trap, though the words reputation didn’t exactly fit the situation. It was like a cage without a door, open, yet sheltered. 

She didn’t know what to do- did she lean into her? Give her the jacket back? She didn’t know how to feel, though that was why they were up here. Trying to make sense of everything. Hannah let her body decide for her, keeping her tightly held form, but allowing herself to conform to the touch. The tenseness in Amanda’s shoulder, that she didn’t know what there until now, faded away.

“I think I’m sad.”  
Amanda wasn’t sure she would speak, but it was better than the silence. It bridged the gap.  
“Yeah. Me too.”

They weren’t friends. When they left the balcony, they’d go back to being Hannah England and Amanda O’Neill. They would start their bickering, and go their separate ways unless otherwise prompted by the rest of their group. They tolerated each other, at best.   
But that’s a lie. Amanda told herself. And you know it. 

It was subtle, the way Hannah had started to look at her. Not much had changed, but they didn’t scowl when they locked eyes across the courtyard. Hannah still picked at her personality traits and exploited whatever teasing material she could find- but she also said goodnight, when they parted ways. She didn’t hiss when Amanda accidentally brushed against her in class.

She didn’t know what this was either. Amanda let her arm drag up from her waist, slowly, hand resting just below where the other girl’s ribs should be. Hannah let her.   
“Your Dad’s a dickbag.”  
Hannah lifted her head to look her in the eye.   
“Amanda-”  
“I know you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t gotta. Let me do it.”

Neither of them dared to move. Hannah’s frown shifted into more of a flat line, before she eventually averted her gaze. It let Amanda know she was tired- Hannah England never backed down.

“He’s a dickbag and you know it. He makes you cry.”  
She had Hannah’s defenses memorized. ‘He just want’s me to be the best. It’s my fault I can’t deliver. I’m an England.’ To ‘He loves me- I know he does. He just doesn’t say it; plenty of fathers don’t, it’s normal and I’m going to do better.’

“I’m the only one who’s supposed to make you cry like that. I’m your mortal enemy. That’s my job, not his.”  
Like the mere mention of tears were her trigger, Hannah felt them drip from her cheeks.   
“Maybe I deserve to cry.”  
Amanda was the one to hunch over a bit. She rested the bridge of her nose against Hannah’s temple, and mumbled.

“I do too, from time to time. You’re kinda shitty, and selfish, but so am I.”  
“So we’re just two shitty people, who cry a lot?”  
“Yeah. Guess so.”  
The small, depressing noises that had been leaving her mouth were replaced with a dry, yet warm laugh. Warm enough to make Amanda’s goosebumps go away. The tears were still there, and Hannah’s eyes were closed, but the bitterness wasn’t layered on as thickly as it could have been.

“Amanda?”  
“Mhm?”  
Hannah let her head drop back down onto the taller witches’ shoulder, a full-body sigh allowing her to go limp for a moment.   
“Let’s go inside.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops I wrote angst at 4am haha sorry.
> 
> I'm a bit of a 50/50 split when it comes to writing Hannah's dad- in some fics I write him as the distant (due to work) but loving and supportive dad, while other times I make him a bit of a gaslighting asshole (depends on my mood I guess????)  
> I'd like to think this helps develop Hannah's bully side- her own personal feelings of inadequacy leading her to lash out at others. While this doesn't excuse her behavior at all, It can help us understand the why behind it. 
> 
> In all my hc's, I see Amanda with a distant mother. I usually write her with the idea that she has two- though her other mother passed when she was an infant, so she doesn't have a ton of feelings of remorse. She has an older sister, and her remaining mother often compares them to each other as some sort of twisted motivation tactic. Amanda has never gotten along with her, and they both have a relatively bad relationship. While Hannah is convinced her father does indeed love her, Amanda believes wholeheartedly that she and her mother will never be the type of family you see on TV. 
> 
> Oh no my hand slipped again.


End file.
